Secrets of Cavendon: A gripping historical saga full of intrigue and drama. Barbara Taylor BradfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
fashion these days.
Victoria sat down on a sofa, and glanced around admiringly. She loved rooms full of light; dark rooms alarmed her, bringing back frightening memories.
Elise, walking over to the Queen Anne chest, asked, ‘Would you prefer lemonade, Vicki? I made some earlier and it’s very refreshing.’ Glasses, sherry and the lemonade stood on a silver tray.
‘Thanks, I’d prefer that. I’ll have something stronger with dinner.’ She watched Elise, thinking how attractive her friend looked in her red dress, with her dark wavy hair, dark brown eyes and pale complexion. She was slender, petite, but her posture was so good she appeared taller than she really was.
Victoria knew men found Elise beguiling, her hint of an accent and dark beauty attracting them. She had an unmistakeable sexual allure, and yet she hadn’t settled down with any of those men she had dated. She was very particular. And very devoted to her career.
Returning to the seating area near the windows, Elise took the chair opposite her friend. After a sip of the lemonade she fixed her attention on Victoria. ‘First of all, was Declan flirting with me, do you think?’
‘Yes, he was. I’m sure he wants to see you again.’
‘Does he have a girlfriend?’
‘Not that I know of, Elise, and he’s a wonderful person. He’s always been helpful to me, especially when I first moved in, hanging my photographs, that sort of thing.’
‘He seems to work a lot. I’ve seen him in a few movies – small parts, of course. He’s from Dublin, isn’t he?’
Victoria nodded, and then laughed. ‘And he’s as Irish as Paddy’s pig. But listen, go out on a date with him, have some fun. He’s charming.’
‘If you say so,’ Elise responded, pulling a wry face, and changed the subject. ‘And what about you, Vicki? Have you met anyone lately … anyone who interests you?’
‘No, I haven’t. Too much work, actually.’ She suddenly smiled. ‘Too involved with a camera and what I see through it to notice a man.’
Elise laughed, and the two of them turned to discussing the flat that Elise had found nearby in Margaretta Terrace. And what her move would mean to Greta. Elise was worried her sister would be lonely without her.
‘It takes a lot of courage to be brave,’ Alicia said, staring across the table at Constance Lambert. She shook her head, and muttered, ‘Oh, sorry. That does sound ridiculous, doesn’t it?’ Her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears.
Constance reached out, took hold of Alicia’s hand. ‘I know exactly what you mean. It takes a great deal of strength to be brave in this kind of situation, darling.’
‘It was just so unexpected and he was, well, brutal, really, in the way he told me, so blunt, unfeeling.’ Alicia rummaged around in her bag for a handkerchief, tears sliding down her cheeks.
‘So it seems,’ Constance murmured, her voice sympathetic, gentle. ‘And you’re not the first woman to weep over a man. Or the last. Women have been doing that for centuries.’
Constance looked off into the distance, as if recalling something, her face contemplative. Then she said in a low voice, ‘Men can be real sods at times.’
Alicia wiped her cheeks, blew her nose and attempted to smile at Constance, but it faltered almost at once. Once again, Constance took hold of the younger woman’s hand, held it comfortingly.
The two of them were sitting in the lounge area of Brown’s Hotel, having afternoon tea. They were very close; Constance and Felix had been Alicia’s theatrical agents since the beginning of her career in British films. She had not become a big star, but she was an actress of some standing. Beloved by the public, she worked on a regular basis and always in good movies. They had established a successful career for her, and looked after her interests scrupulously. And she relied on them, trusting them implicitly. However, it was Constance she had turned to in her upset over Bryan Mellor, knowing how well Constance understood her on an emotional level.
Constance broke the silence, when she said in a slightly puzzled tone, ‘There’s one thing I do find strange, and that is Bryan’s decision to do Victor Chapman’s Shakespearean tour of Australia. That’s certainly not going to embellish his career in any way at all. In fact, it’s a bit of a comedown, in my opinion. And by the way, Felix agrees.’
Leaning forward, Alicia confided, ‘I’m glad you said that, because that was exactly what I felt. On the other hand, he is a bit odd, sort of quirky, and he’s stubborn; he wants to do his own thing.’
‘He’s a man, what do you expect?’ Constance remarked, a bleak smile flashing across her face. Then she added, ‘But let’s look at it in another way, Alicia. Bryan could have just broken it off, walked away. He didn’t have to put thousands of miles between the two of you …’ Constance cut her sentence short, looking thoughtful yet again. ‘Unless he did it to prevent himself from coming back to you; in case he’d be tempted to reconcile, knowing he was unable to resist you.’
A startled look flickered in Alicia’s blue eyes, and she exclaimed, ‘Why would he want to have me back? I just told you how … harsh he was. Here’s the thing, Connie. I believe he had been planning to break up with me for a while. Just consider how sneaky he was about his clothes, saying he was taking them to the cleaners. He was probably packing his suitcases.’
‘True enough. Look, if he left anything behind, be it a tie, a book, anything at all, just get rid of it. Send it back or, better still, throw it away. Reminders of a man can be bothersome.’
‘Thank you for thinking of that. There are a few bits and pieces. I’ll mail the stuff to his flat.’
‘Don’t waste the postage; he’s gone, sailed away. Throw the things in the dustbin. Get him out of your life. You’ve got to move on. Now. At once.’
‘I’ve decided to go to Cavendon, get out of the flat. There’s too much of Brin there at the moment.’
‘Good idea. And stay there for the next ten days. Now that the picture has been postponed for two weeks, for those important rewrites, you can relax, go over your lines – although, knowing you, they’re already committed to memory.’
Alicia smiled for the first time that day. ‘Yes, they are.’
‘You must think of the future,’ Constance announced, her voice suddenly firmer, more decisive. ‘I know Felix told you that the associate producer is a big fan of yours. He’s hinted to Felix that he might want you for his next production. There’s a lot to look forward to, darling. And you mustn’t moon over Bryan Mellor. He’s a lost cause.’
At the other side of London, at Photo Elite’s office on the Fulham Road, Victoria stood in the office of Michael Sutton, owner and head of the agency, listening to him carefully.
When he had finished, she exclaimed, ‘I don’t like what you’re saying, Mike. You’re actually suggesting that you’re troubled by the fact I’m living with a man because you promised Paloma Swann you’d keep an eye on me. That’s it, isn’t it?’
He nodded. ‘I also promised your aunt the same thing, and these rumours I’ve been hearing are worrisome. I do feel a certain sense of responsibility, you know.’
‘You can stop at once. Aunt Alice and Paloma have Charlie Stanton and Greta Chalmers keeping an eye on me, and that’s already too many people.’ Throwing him a cold, hard stare she added, ‘I am disappointed in you; I thought you knew what kind of girl I am. Someone’s spreading bad things about me, things which are not true.’
Michael went bright red, the flush starting in his neck and flooding up into his face, and he looked chagrined. ‘I ought to know better – shouldn’t listen to a bit of